


Whores Who Lay With Monsters

by MadamNodusTollens



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (female recieving), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breeding Kink, Brief mention of Past Abuse, Cersei has always been a bitch, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Jaime ships it, Joffrey Baratheon is His Own Warning, Marriage of Tyrion Lannister, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Sex, Smut, The Seduction of Tyrion Lannister, Tyrion teaches sex, Tyrions likes it when you talk to him wink wink, i just want Tyrion happy, is that so wrong, lots of SMUTTT, ofc is technically underage (17), thats why the warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 23:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20217706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamNodusTollens/pseuds/MadamNodusTollens
Summary: Imogen Caine is a young lady of the court. She seems to be the only one not distressed over her wedding to the Imp, including Lord Lannister himself. She is determined to enjoy her entire wedding celebration, even including what comes after.“You confuse and frighten me, Imogen.” He rolled my name over his tongue to judge its flavor. “But I respect your determination to enjoy this unfortunate situation.”





	Whores Who Lay With Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> This is my love letter to Tyrion. i was writing it out purely as a fantasy fulfillment of him finally having a good relationship. Of him having someone stand next to him who is proud to be there.
> 
> This is also a completely solo project, so there will be mistakes. Don't read if you don't like that. 
> 
> Please comment any thoughts! Id love to hear from yall.

My feet ached as I walked down the aisle. 

Baelors sept was clearly not designed with women walking in elaborate bridal gowns in mind. I looked up from my father's arm to my betrothed, Tyrion Lannister. The Halfman, the Imp. Horrible names, really. He didn't look deformed and, yes, while he was short, so was I. He locked eyes with me and I could swear I saw more than a suggestion of fear and doubt. A small smile quirked my lips. I was nothing fearsome, only seventeen years old, less than five feet tall and never having done anything brave or heroic. Yet in his eyes, this great lord of Lannister and hero of the Blackwater, the trepidation was unmistakable. I notice a blush on his cheeks at my amusement and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep a larger grin from cracking. 

Father and I reached the bottom of the first staircase. A deep breath swelled in me and attempted to crush my ribs against my corset. Father kissed my hand and gave me a watery smile. I was very lucky to have been born to a father who loved me equally to my brothers. I was also lucky to have Tyrion standing at the top of the second staircase and not some brute in expensive clothes waiting to show his true colors. 

My mind drifted to the first private visit he paid to me only a few days prior. I was in my chambers and my handmaiden, Tylla, was applying some light drops of fragrance to my wrists when he knocked and announced himself. Tylla gasped, giving me a wide smile. I simply pulled the bottle from her hands and called him in. He gave Tylla a polite nod as she closed the door shut behind her then he looked to me, clearly uncomfortable.

“My lady,” He bowed deeply, and I mirrored his manners with a smooth curtsy. 

“My lord, please excuse my casual state but I was not expecting a visitor this early.” Tyrion looked me up and down, taking in my very not casual appearance and raised an eyebrow. 

“Not at all, Lady Caine, you look beautiful as always. If you would sit, I have something I wish to say to you.”

I sat at my vanity and reopened the glass vial, the delicate perfume immediately touching my senses. He remained standing and shifted his feet uncomfortably. I held the bottle up in gesture, “Do you mind, lord Tyrion?”

“No, my lady. It is an unusual scent. I don’t believe I can place it.”

“Such a clever man,” I teased, “And yet you don't recognize the smell of the rain. I was gifted it in Dorne. I believe the Dornish name is petrichor. It's always been a favorite of mine.” I shook a drop onto my finger and traced it behind my ears, a second to my throat and when I knew he was watching, a third to my collarbone and down between what little of my breasts could be seen. Setting the vial down, I glanced over my shoulder. His eyes widened ever so slightly before he cleared his throat.

“I have come to apologize. You have been saddled with a burden on behalf of my family, and regrettably it is not one easily borne.”

“I am afraid I do not understand, my lord. What burden?”

“Don't call me ‘Lord,’ please. If we are to be wed I assume some layers of formality must be shed.” 

I bit my bottom lip, suppressing a grin, but said nothing, allowing his unintentional innuendo to hang in the air between us. 

“Ah, well,” He said, clearing his throat again. “That's the very burden I speak of. To be wed. I understand ‘Bride of the Imp’ is not the most flattering title but I can swear you this; I will do all I can to protect you. You shall never be abused and I will never…” A cough, “force you into a situation you do not desire to be in. Present excluded.”

His hands clasped behind his back, struggling to hold eye contact, he looked small to me for the first time. 

“My Lord, hm, Tyrion, this may be the first time you've heard this, but you are mistaken.”

“I think we both know it is not.” He gave a smile that was almost genuine, save the hesitancy.

“Bride of the Imp is truly not such a terrible title. Imagine being the Mad King or Littlefinger or Kingslayer.” He gave the barest flinch and I realized what I said. “My apologies, my lord, that was very rude. He is your family and soon to be mine. I'll do better to reign my tongue, my lord.” 

“No, I beg of you, don't. You were not wrong. Jaime earned that title, as harsh as it is.”

“You see, I am unbothered by their barbs. Soon they'll find I have tougher skin than most. I'll wear their taunts as armor.” I smoothed the folds of my dress as he rubbed his jaw in surprised appreciation. “Now that that's covered, do you have anything else you wish to apologize for that is not your fault? My hair color perhaps? Or the fact that it hasn't rained here in weeks?” I smiled at him, searching for some measure of warmth. As he smiled, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes produced no chill. 

“Father will hate you,” he muttered under his breath. I had to physically bite my tongue to keep my thoughts in. That shriveled up old bean could leap from the great heights of the Eyrie for all I cared. “I feel badly for you. Many a young girl dreams of wedding a gallant knight or a beautiful hero. You have been chosen for me. Disappointment is expected. Howev-”

“Tyrion, enough. I am not embarrassed of you. And I don't want your pity. In truth I am one of the few girls who does get to live out that dream.”

“Excuse m-”

“I do hope you do not reprimand me for saying so but the way you stand up to your horrid sister and how you defend Sansa in front of… The Boy King… well, to me, that makes you more admirable than all the knights and Kingsguard in King's Landing.”  
~*~*~*~

I marched proudly up the steps, ignoring the ungodly weight of my elaborate purple gown. The septon called for Tyrion to grace me with the protection of the Lannister cloak. I quickly glanced around for the stool I had assumed would be made available for him. Hearing an unsuppressed chuckle from the congregation, I knew that idiot king was trying to humiliate Tyrion. I immediately knelt before him and gently touched his hand when he placed the ridiculously embroidered cloak over my shoulders. I prayed a silent prayer of gratitude to the Mother, Maid and Warrior that the rest of the short ceremony went without interruptions.

When we finished our unison vows, I leaned down, grasped his face and stole his breath away with a kiss. One hand reached up and touched mine, the golden rings a cold contrast to how warm his skin was. The congregation gave polite applause. When I turned, beaming, and Tyrion looked out, bewildered, my family lifted their hands to me in a familiar marriage salute, dozens of hands spread in the air. I felt their support deeply. My new husband's family were distinctly less enthusiastic. Joffrey was clearly furious I looked happy next to his uncle. Cersei looked as though she had bitten through a whole lemon, rind and all. Tywin was blank and stoic as always. How very predictable. 

Tyrion held my hand aloft as we descended the extravagant stone staircases. I made a point to look each grim Lannister in the eye and smile my brightest.

The dinner afterwards was fabulous as expected. I danced with every lord and deflected their condolences, retorting that it would take less than a fortnight to learn to love new my lord husband, seeing as I already quite liked him. 

There were two requests to dance that surprised me. The first was Jaime Lannister. Kingsguard are not meant to partake in the festivities of weddings and the like. But as he told me, there were three others in attendance making sure our dearly beloved monarch didn't slaughter anyone before the night was out. 

“I wish to acquaint myself with my new sister-by-law.” His smile was charming as I walked a large circle around him, lead by his hand. The motion flared my skirts and brilliantly showcased the intricate peacocks embroidered on my train, the only homage to my house I was allowed. “Beautiful Lady Caine, you are more breathtaking than the majestic birds so inseparable from your family's name. Which limb did my brother sacrifice for your hand?”

“None of the essential ones, ser, fear not,” I matched his knowing grin, “ And it’s Lady Lannister now, ser.”

“I must say, my dear Lady Lannister,” He said significantly, “It has been too long since I attended a Lannister wedding where the bride look genuinely happy at the match.” We continued to twirl and follow the steps but it never impeded on our conversation. 

“I am aware everyone here was expecting to see me weeping, wailing, gnashing my teeth and screaming for mercy. But to be perfectly honest, the only screaming I plan on doing won't be until much later.” I jerked to a stop, horrified. Ser Jaime said nothing, a laughing smile opening his mouth. My cheeks burned while he gently lead me through the next several steps and I regained my dignity. “What I meant was your brother is a good man. He is intelligent, compassionate and I know he’ll never bring me any harm. I can only pray that he finds me suitable. I wish so much for him to be happy.” I looked over at my husband only to catch him already staring at me over the rim of his goblet. He set it down without drinking and stood. This was the second unexpected request. 

“Brother, if you would allow me a moment to dance with my wife.” His voice carried over the general ruckus and halted the music. Jaime grinned, kissed my hand and bowed. I nodded back and took a deep breath to try and steady my heart. Jaime leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “Fear not, my lady, he has looked on no other since your vows and has watched your every step on this floor.” He gave me a look then sauntered away. 

My lord husband reached out his hand and gave me a small smile. Our height differences still obvious but my being so short, he was only under by about a head. His left hand rested comfortably on my waist and the music began again. He held me close and I could smell the soap in his hair. He liked mint. 

“ I don't recall if I told you, today has been such a rush, but you look…” The words seem to dry behind his teeth. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You look divine. Like the Maiden made flesh. Truly.” I bit my lip and looked away, smiling.

“My lord has been in his cups.”

“As has my lady but not enough to impede.”

“Then I thank you, this is high praise. I do desire to please you.”

“Does it please you?” He caressed the edge of my bodice, feeling the fine beads fixed there.

“You know, no one has asked me that since the dressmaker. Yes, it pleases me greatly. I’m thinking of converting the train into a wall hanging so I can always have my family near me.”

“Keep family near,” he snorted, “you may come to rue those words, wife.”

“You may come to appreciate my family in time.”

The music gave a brief pause as the players refreshed themselves with wine and women. Tyrion kissed my hand and pulled me close to whisper only to me.

“You confuse and frighten me, Imogen.” He rolled my name over his tongue to judge its flavor. “But I respect your determination to enjoy this unfortunate situation.”

“Blessed marriage, you mean,” I smiled sweetly at him before grimacing at the persistent pinch in my toes. “When do we retire? I am getting rather tired of dancing but I have yet to come up with an effective rejection.” 

He smiled and let out a small laugh. I stepped off to the side and watched my lord husband climb back up to the high table. He held his hands out and drew everyone's attention. 

“My lords and ladies, the house Lannister gives its thanks and blessings to all those who have attended this final wedding of our great houses children. While I and all our guests know I could easily imbibe in four times as much wine as I have already, my young bride has asked that we politely adjourn from your royal company. Please, eat and drink your fill. I am not the one paying.” He clapped once over the polite titters in the crowd to restart the feasting. He looked relaxed and happy, giving me a real smile from across the tables. The momentary connection was shattered by the sound of a goblet hitting the wall. All eyes snapped to the source, the pouting boy king. He was slumped down, his crown crooked, and wine spilled on the front of his doublet. He threw himself up like a rag doll and pointed one finger at Tyrion. 

“Uncle, how dare you ferseek tradition…” He slurred slightly as he brought himself to the front of the hall, just behind me. I felt him clamp his hand hard on my shoulder. I shifted to physically force his touch away but one look from Tyrion and his slightly outstretched hand warned me against it. 

“What traditions, your Grace?”

“The wedd- no, BEDDING ceremony!! How else will we know if you have the ability to truly commonsate this union?” His hand slipped up to grip the back of my neck. My lips pursed as I controlled my immediate gut reaction to run. 

“No, your Grace is too kind to look after my ladys purity but a bedding ceremony is not needed.” His temper began to show through. “Allow Lady Imogen to retire after this very long day.”

“No,” Joffrey's grip tightened and he looked down at me. “Imogen? Is that your name? I hadn't known. You're fair enough. Would be quite fun for us to see what's hiding under all that fabric!” He yelled to the crowd. He got a few hearty agreements but most were awkwardly unresponsive.

“Take your hand off her.” My husband's voice was low, level, and menacing. Joffrey curled his lip and pushed me forward into the center of the open space, keeping hold of my spine.

“How dare you order your king?!” His wine induced stupor seemingly evaporated, replaced only with malice, although he still swayed slightly. He held me out at arms length and I no longer feared for my own life but Tyrions. 

Tyrion took slow calculated steps down from the high table. Tywin stood and watched the exchange closely. 

“If you do not unhand me, you will spend your own wedding night fumbling with only one hand,” I threatened. An audible gasp rose from the collection. I looked over my shoulder to see all the blood drain from Joffrey's face. My own skin felt cold and tight but the words had already left my lips and filled the room. There was no returning them to their source. When I turned my head back to look at Tyrion, Joffrey's other hand slapped me hard then grabbed my jaw roughly. 

“My King, that is enough.” Tywin's authoritative voice owned the room. The king squeezed my face even tighter and pulled me close. 

“I will not tolerate disrespect from some whore who lays with monsters.” 

“Your Majesty, if you would, release the girl. Allow your uncle to reprimand her properly.” He looked to his youngest son. “Punish her. Firmly. As your first act as her husband.” 

Tywin appeared at the corner of my vision, offering a drink to the sneering King. He still held my jaw, his eyes flicking between me and Tyrion. 

“Who would want to watch an imp and a child.” he released me with disgust. 

I jumped when I felt a warm hand in mine. Tyrion’s tortured eyes were pinched in concern. “My lady, I believe this may be our only opportunity for an exit.”

As we passed his father, he briefly grabbed my arm and muttered, “I defend you once.” his lips barely moved. 

“Yes, my lord.” I curtsied, humbled.

The march to his quarters was silent and terrifying. In my haste to exit, I didn't even think to speak to my parents, to assure them that I was safe. Tyrion did not look back at me even once. The guards behind us were the only source of sound, the clank of plate and mail filling the stone hall. Tyrion dismissed them from standing outside immediately and bolted the door. I instantly began to babble.

“My lord, I am so sorry. I was so rash and foolish. I don't know what possessed me to speak to the king that way. I’ve been your wife less than a day and I humiliate you and myself. I should be beat-” Tyrion cut me off by reaching up and pulling me down into a strong kiss. He cupped my cheeks and held me firmly. His lips were soft and tender, his breath still harboring some notes of sweet wine. He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. 

“Never say that. No one shall ever lay a hand on you again, wife. Please sit.” I sat on the chest at the foot of the bed, never leaning far enough back for him to stop touching me. He brushed his fingertips over my jaw and assessed the light red marks left over by Joffrey's hand. “However, I do see I need to give you lessons of interacting with the king. It may very well kill me to watch him touch you again.” 

“Hold faith, my lord, I will never willingly be within arms breadth of his highness again.”

“You may not have a choice, and as enticing as I find your whip tongue, Joffrey may not find it so charming.” The blood rush to my face did not go unnoticed by my husband. One hand hovered over my collarbone for a moment before he clenched his fist and stepped away, refusing himself the chance to physically feel my response to his words. “My lady, I do not know what has been explained to you.” He chewed his tongue in thought, “ There are certain… expectations between man and wife, especially on the first night. I will not deny my own… masculine desires towards you but know this; I will not touch you until you tell me you’re ready.” The words seemed to pain him. He turned his back to me and removed his doublet then loosened the strings of his undershirt. 

“What of feminine desires, my lord?” Staring hard at the carpet, I listened. When he remained silent, I glanced up to see him looking at me intensely. “Ser?”

“What are your feminine desires?”

“I am not certain, ser.”

“Please, I asked you to call me Tyrion.”

“I am not certain, Tyrion.” I repeated, “I have very limited knowledge of the goings-on between men and women. However, I do know that when the king laid his hands on me, I wanted to run to you. And when you touch me, I don't want you to stop.”

I held out my hand to him. He came closer again and laid his fingers on mine. I traced all his scars and calluses without a word. Feeling momentarily brazen, I laid one kiss on the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. I switched to the other hand and memorized a circular scar behind his pinky.

“Cersei sicced a dog on me when I was young. The beast was only a pup as well so I didn't lose the finger. And this,” He flipped back his sleeve to show a long, wide scar wrapping from his elbow to his wrist. “Dear Father teaching me to ‘block better’ in sparring.” I could hear the tension in his voice as he tried to distract himself with chatter. I touched a pocked mark showing out of his open collar. 

“I don't know if I want to know about this one.” I felt his breathing hitch when I pulled the fabric back to see it better. “Firewood embers?” He seemed surprised that I recognized it so quickly and specifically. “May I?” I unlaced my sleeve and showed him the pink constellation on my upper left arm. “I am not unfamiliar with the sensation.” He sucked his teeth in sympathy and stroked it absentmindedly with the backs of his knuckles, his warm skin a comfort against the very old scar.

“May I ask what happened?”

“I did. I do not pretend to harbor the same troubled past as yourself. But I was young and foolish…” The words struggled to rise from my throat. “I foolishly gave my attention to an unkind boy whom I grew up with. He attempted cruelty on me and in the ensuing… disagreement he knocked me down into the fireplace. Father was more upset than I was.” I let out a joyless chuckle. His eyes looked sad and he stroked my skin with his thumbs. “Tyrion?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Are you going to kiss me again?”

“Are you going to stop me if i do?”

My heart burst at the sight of a true smile.

“Would I be asking you to do it if I didn't want it?”

“Fair.”

He hesitated slightly before backing away again. He turned and busied himself with the tray of wine and small foods left for us. I felt my heart sink again slightly at the abrupt rejection so soon after a small hope had begun to grow. I cleared my throat. Receiving no response and seeing him finish his drink, my shoulders sank. 

“My lord. Would you be so kind as to call back my maid? This gown is too difficult to remove on one's own.”

“I sent away any possible emissaries.”

“Then you will need to help me.” I turned my back to him and pulled my long braids over my shoulder. I began removing my other sleeve, trying desperately to ignore the soft sounds of his approach. I jerked when I felt his hand just barely touch the back of my neck. 

“Is it tender?”

I looked over my shoulder. He was close enough for me to feel his warmth but he seemed at war with himself, his hand floating only an inch above my skin. “It looks worse than it is.”

“You can't see it.”

“That is true. Nevertheless, would you help your new bride? This gown is lovely but immensely heavy. I can show you how to take it apart correctly.”

“I know how.”

His fingers deftly unsecured the clasps and ribbons of the outer bodice until it fell slack. I removed my train and rolled it neatly to place in my storage. He handed me my laces then moved away, back to the small side table as I continued to undress. When I was left with only my base corset, shift and underthings, I turned to him. His eyes were focused on my every move. His jaw was clenched. My hands rose to unclasp my corset when he held up a finger, halting me.

“I may look a monster, this I know- please allow me to finish- but I do not have to behave like one towards my own wife. I do not know what you may have been convinced you want but it is not this.” He slid down into a chair and held his head in his hands, taking a very deep breath. 

“My husband…” I knelt in front of him, grabbing his hand and holding it in my own. “My sweet, simple husband. I do not know how to be a wife. I do not yet understand the comfort and support I am expected to give. But I can learn. And the first thing I want you to teach me is how to love you.” I placed his hand back on my cheek. His eyes pinched but I sat up and kissed him with all I had. He returned the kiss, his mouth exposing all his eagerness and suppressed desire. Out of curiosity, I probed my tongue against his lip. He reacted in kind, opening his mouth to accept me in. The sensation was like nothing else. His mouth was warm and wet and inviting. This kiss was so much deeper and more enticing than any I had had before. His hand moved from my cheek to the back of my head, almost cradling me. His tongue was softly stroking over mine, my breathing in between warm kisses coming out in little moans. It felt too good to care about whether or not it was appropriate for me to enjoy it. As he leaned forward in his chair and allowed me closer, I felt a curious stiffness prod my torso. I leaned into and he groaned against my lips. I flinched away.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, Imogen, you most certainly did not. Tell me once more, do you want this?”

“Yes,” I confirmed, the conviction in my voice unmistakable.

“Then lie back for your first wifely lesson. Remove your corset and smallclothes but you may keep your shift on if you'd prefer.” His breath came out in a hiss when the garment released, my breasts falling into their natural position, my figure filling out more without the constant pressure. Feeling vulnerable, I reached under the bottom of my shift and pulled off my underclothes. I adjusted my hair shyly and laid before him. He slid from the chair and stretched out against a pillow by my hip then pushed another under my head. He traced invisible circles on my thigh, my nipples tightening under his heavy gaze. He ghosted his palm over one breast, tenderly feeling its suppleness. I notice his eyes soften slightly. “Here, bring your knees up. How much do you know about coupling?”

“Not enough. I've only heard vague stories so I'm aware of some things but nothing elaborate.”

Tyrion looked at me for a moment. My earlier confidence had begun to ebb slightly and I shifted under his study, blush spreading across my chest and up my neck.. He sighed and trailed a finger across my cheek, feeling its warmth in his palm. 

“You're beautiful when you blush,” he said, his voice a velvety whisper. “I apologize in advance for my somewhat crude language but I am not well versed in the art of lovemaking, only fucking.”

“Are they different?”

He smiled.

“As different as you and I, Imogen. But I do believe I know enough to make you comfortable or even bring you pleasure, as you are determined to follow through with this. Have you ever touched yourself?”

My brain was frying with the effort to focus. The gentle tone of Tyrion's voice, the waves of warmth and crackling from the fireplace combined into liquor for the senses. Not to mention the bewitching sensations reverberating from his fingers soft grazes over my legs and midsection. My tongue felt heavy and ineloquent as he lazily came closer and closer to my apex. “No, my lord. Should I now?”

“Again with the honorifics, we really must correct that. And no, sweetling, another night perhaps. For now, simply pay attention to what happens.” His voice was thick with strain and arousal. The calluses on his palms gave a carnal contrast as he massaged over my hips. Little mewls escaped my lips and seemed to egg him on. My body was telling me I needed something but, in my ignorance, I did not know what. Inch by inch his hand sank lower until it covered my core. I could feel my heartbeat against his hand. My hips bucked slightly against him, knowing instinctively to seek more friction. He tenderly kneaded me, pulled small whimpers and pleas from my lips. He pressed the heel of his hand a little harder at the top of my mound where it was most sensitive. My skin was dampening quickly as his fingers dipped in ever so slightly.  
“Tyrion…” I moaned low and wanton.

“You feel wet enough. You'll need to open your legs a little more. I promise you'll enjoy this.”

I peeled my eyes open to see him repositioning, down on his elbows between my legs, his face bizarrely close to my heat. 

“My lord! This isn't proper!” I tried to scoot away but he grabbed my calf.

“No, it’s not. But I'm still doing it. You must hold still and trust me.” I nodded once and laid my head back again. I could feel his breath on my slick skin and it was making me insane. I didn't know exactly what was happening but I was approaching delirious with pleasure. “You smell like flowers…” I felt a knot of bliss low in my gut tighten and twitch when he spoke. He touched my swollen bud directly with one finger, punching a sharp yelp from my lungs. Leisurely, he dragged his fingers over and between my drenched folds, swirling around my peak and listening to my every gasp. My knuckles turned white from gripping the rug, desperately attempting to control even a single piece of my body and failing. I was weak in his hands. “Petal, you need to let me know if im doing this well enough. Look at me and speak.” I locked eyes with him and opened my mouth. Before a single sound could emerge, he slipped a thick digit into me and placed a deceptively chaste kiss against my pearl. Crying out, my legs fell open completely. My heart broke slightly when he pulled away. He looked at me expectantly, his head cocked to the side, biting his lip boyishly. 

“Tyrion, please…”

“Please what?” His finger didn't stop its insistent plunder as the tension within me welled. 

“I don’t know, just Tyrion… please… oh gods…”

“They hold no place in this room, remember that, petal. But since you asked so sweetly…” 

The first lap of his tongue was more searing than heated steel. No power on earth could have held back the yelp it caused. He pressed the full flat of his tongue against me and I almost went blind. 

“Oh… my lord, it almost hurts…” My hands instinctively slid down and entwined lightly in his curly hair. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I may kill you if you do.”

“Yes, my lady.”

He suckled lightly on my bud and I felt myself become unwoven, it was as if every inch of my body was filled with lightning. My lungs pushed into my throat and my back arched up off the floor. Tyrion held my legs as he milked bliss from between my thighs. I exalted in that moment of tension and heat and intimacy and Tyrion. He eased the pressure as my body continued to spiral. I resisted the urge to unclench my thighs for fear the sensation would fade too quickly. He gentled the tip of his tongue against my folds and slowly withdrew his thick digit. My body wailed at the loss. Once my toes uncurled I found it within me to open my eyes, my vision slightly blurred. My core felt queer, twitching and and pulsing. It was almost as if there was a warm glow over my body. I dared a peek at my husband. He was failing to stifle a smug grin, his chin glistened wetly.

“Is that from me?” The idea was simultaneously horrifying and erotic.

“Yes, petal. Worry not, it is perfectly normal.” He leaned back onto his knees. As my vision cleared, I noticed a dark flush on his cheeks and how his laboured breath rocked his shoulders. I sat up and licked my lips. Shyly, I reached out one hand and touched his belly button through his thin shirt. I pushed the fabric out of my way and pressed my hand to his skin. 

“Can… can I see you?” 

He nodded and slowly unlaced his breeches. My eyes slipped down. His member emerged above his waistband; thick, long and so full of active blood it was almost purple. I grasped it tentatively, judging its weight. It was warmer than I had thought, velvety to the touch and impossibly hard. I stoked it once and he groaned, his head falling back. I snatched my hand back. 

“Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry!”

He grabbed my hand back to him and guided me into a gentle stroke. “As you said yourself, it is very near to pain but I may die if you stop.” he mumbled. I maintained my rhythm, watching his shoulders relax and his brow smooth. 

“Tyrion, I fear you may not fit,” I grinned and kissed him sweetly, “You're so big. It’s almost… monstrous.”

“Oh, very amusing.” He placed his hand on the side of my neck and pulled me into a deep kiss. He pulled several of my braids over one shoulder, twisting them between his fingers. His touch then drifted to my breast, thumb gingerly resting on my nipple. His voice came out heavy when he pulled away.

“Wife, I want you.”

“Husband, I want you.”

He removed the remains of his clothing and repositioned himself between my legs. He pressed open mouthed kisses down my sternum, then took himself in hand and tenderly spread my lips with the tip of his cock. 

“I feel as though I am tainting something holy.”

“How else would the Maiden become the Mother?” 

He simply grinned and pressed the head further in. For the first few moments it felt only invasive and awkward. I could not bear to open my eyes for fear of seeing any trace of dissatisfaction on Tyrion's face. But then… slowly, naturally the pain melted and transformed into delightful, tempting pleasure. The residual slickness and relaxation from before made it easier to give into these sensations. I finally opened my eyes. Tyrion was still as stone, seated to the hilt. He had a deathgrip on my hips and was breathing exceptionally slow. I touched his hand. “Love, can you move?” 

“I'm not sure.” 

I decided to do a small experiment. I braced my feet and lifted my hips slightly, rolling against him. A low moan rose at the spectacular friction against my sensitive bud, distinct waves of bliss rolling through me. He groaned and gripped my hips even more fiercely. 

“Imogen… oh, Imogen…” He began to rock rhythmically into me. With every thrust I felt the fever rising higher and higher within me. He was thick and strong and my body shuddered with every pass he made. The room filled with the vulgar and exciting sounds of lovemaking, wet slaps and breathy, low moans. His size was stretching me further than I knew I could go and filled me where I hadn't known I was empty. His voice chanting my name built a haze of distracted euphoria behind my eyes. He dug his fingers into my soft middle, murmuring on about my holiness and perfection.

“My lady, we must stop. I fear if I lose control I may spill within you.”

“Please, husband, don’t pull away from me.” I locked my ankles together behind his back, keeping him deep inside me. “I want you. I want you inside me always. Give me children, fill me with your seed. Fill this dusty old castle with beautiful pure souls.” I lock eyes with Tyrion and watch his face struggle with indecision. He braced one hand over my womb, not daring to move in case his cock made the choice before he could. 

“Imogen, you don’t know what you ask for...” 

I grin and flipped us, Tyrion looking stunned from the flat of his back. “Husband, I know exactly what I ask for. Would you like me to beg you?” His eyes rolled into the back of his head as I began my tender ride. Every down stroke was followed by a tantalizing grind that sent shivers up my spine. I leaned down and kissed him deeply, tasting desperation on his lips. My voice was rough and wavering as I continued goading him. “Picture it for me, Tyrion. Your seed filling me and growing into new life, My belly swelling with your baby.” As strong of a reaction as I thought he would have, I was mirroring. The thought of his seed quickening within me, giving him a keep filled with beautiful blonde children of every size kindled the flame in my belly. Tyrion matched me, stroke for stroke. Quiet little noises left his lips, desperate prayers and expletives, praising me and simultaneously cursing himself. My pace picked up as I came nearer and nearer to my own completion. “Imagine the pride of showing me to your family, our baby growing inside me. Please, oh gods, Tyrion, touch me, get me pregnant. Please, oh gods…” My voice cracked with lust. He looked at me with wonder in his eyes and slipped a hand between us. The added stimulation was becoming too much. 

I was reaching desperately for that beautiful burst, equally desperate to cause it in Tyrion. I watched his face, relishing his eyebrows clenching and his bottom lip sucking in. My thighs quivered, my back arched back and stars burst behind my eyelids. The pulsing paradise seemed to paralyze me. I distinctly heard Tyrion grunt and push up into me, fingers digging hard enough into my hips to leave bruises. The feeling of him finishing inside my walls, knowing it could implant within me lengthened my own climax. As I slowly floated down from that incredible high, my shoulders slumped and my breathing seemed to regulate. 

My skin felt too hot and my long hair tickled my tailbone, making me shiver. Tyrion jerked and grabbed my knee. “Gentle, petal, I am still very sensitive.” I smiled and leaned down, kissing his chest. He stroked my hair sweetly, whispering to himself. I half sat up and looked around us. 

“What now, husband? If I get up now it may make a mess.”

“There, petal,” he chuckled at me, “Get that cloth over there.”

He talked me through our new post-coupling routine then laid me in the softest bed I’ve ever felt. “Oh, love, I can't even imagine how nice it will be to do all of that again in a real bed. Come, Tyrion, lay next to you ruined wife for a moment before you ignore me for important thoughts of state.” He chuckled at me again, pulling me close. I rested my head on his chest and breathed his scent in deep. 

“Imogen, you must remember the position of wife to a man like me is not a safe one. You must not ever be careless. You are young and full of great potential. I would die before seeing it wasted because of you connection to me.” 

“I know the risk, Tyrion. I also know, deep in my bones, that this feeling of closeness to you is worth everything.” I ran my hand over my plush belly. “I wonder…”

“Wonder what?”

“I wonder if we did it. If we really made a baby, just now, only a moment ago. Or if it was just practice.”

Tyrion snorted. “Practice? Is that all that was?” 

“Sleep, husband.” My voice wavered with giggles. “I meant what I said about making love to you in a real bed. You must gather your strength.” I grinned and kissed his ribs.

“Is that so?”

He rolled me over, kissing me open mouthed, once again igniting our shared passion.  
~*~*~*~


End file.
